


apotheosis

by mattmurdockfoggynelson



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (??? in a way?), (because what's fluff without a little sprinkle of angst?), (spoiler alert: it's foggy's mom), Alternate Universe - Priests, Catholicism, Family Member Death, M/M, Priest!Matt, Religion, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, first time in a while churchgoer!foggy, weird feelings about said catholicism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattmurdockfoggynelson/pseuds/mattmurdockfoggynelson
Summary: A priest recently out of seminary. A man returning to the church. Their meeting sparks an unusual - ah, fuck it. Foggy's got some weird, mushy, heart-eyes feelings for a priest. Now what?feat. flirting during communion, awkward boners during bible study and turning the serious nature of the church into my own happy gay romcom.





	1. thou shalt open my lips, and my mouth shall show thy praise (starting the inexplicable)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a lot of the tags state, sort of a general warning for religion & religious conflict. i'm trying to keep the tone of this fic more light & funny rather than deep & morally conflicted, but there may be some occasional spots of it. in this chapter specifically, there are brief mentions of a family death and jesus-related death, and occasional bits of what might be considered blasphemy, but you probably already knew that walking into this one.
> 
> enjoy.
> 
> song recommendation: [miserere mei, deus by gregorio allegri](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36Y_ztEW1NE)

   He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped foot in a church. He could only remember he was young, maybe 7 or 8. Seeing, feeling everything here, it comes back in hazy bits of memory.

   It feels surreal, the choir, the scent of the incense. The light coming through the stained-glass windows. He notes the images laid out on them; an angel appearing to a woman in blue. A man holding a book in one hand, the other one on his heart. Jesus dying on the cross. It’s unsettling. Every step down the nave echoes through the sanctuary. It makes him nervous, like it’s drawing the attention of every eye. He sees a pair of old women stare at him as he walks past. He feels underdressed. _Maybe this was a bad idea._ He tries to ignore his agitation, tries to take in the calm of the music. There is no calm in the music.

   “ _Miserere mei, Deus,_ ” they sing, and the sound is so sweet, so sad, he considers leaving. Looking behind him, he sees the choir, dressed in red and white. A few of them are young, white collars standing up beneath their robes. The others are older, with smooth, placid faces. It stirs something in his chest; he can’t decide what it is.

   He find his way to the third pew on the right, giving apologies to the people he moves past, squished between the seats.

   “Excuse me, sorry, just gonna – ” he says as he gets past a husband and wife with a small child in a basket carrier. He scoots by an old man, and a young woman with her head bent. He settles down towards the middle of the pew, and he has to turn his head to see the altar.

 _God, 7 or 8. It’s been… how long, 18 years? Jesus._ He looks up at the crucifix above the altar. _Sorry._ He hadn’t been religious since then. He’s still not sure if he is now, even here.

   “…yes, I hear he’s new here.” The voice overheard comes from a middle-aged woman behind him, talking to a younger man next to her. “Cute, too.”

   He sees him from the corner of his eye. A priest, young-looking, around his age. Short brown hair, neatly coiffed. His eyes are set behind dark, round glasses.

   “Shame about his…condition.”

   “ _Mom!_ ”

   He’s holding onto the arm of one of the lectors, his hand tucked into their elbow.

   “Looks like he’s doing well with it.”

   He’s being led up to the altar, setting a little leather-bound book on it. He opens it, scanning his fingers over the page in neat lines. _Oh._

   “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” He makes the sign of the cross.

   “Amen.” The church is filled with the voices of everyone’s response.

   The priest adjusts his glasses. “The Lord be with you.”

   He distantly hears the response, “and with your spirit.”

   “Brothers and sisters, let us acknowledge our sins, and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries.”

   “I confess – confess to you, to Almighty God – ” He stumbles over every word. He doesn’t remember any of them. He just sits and stares, and wishes he could disappear. Just stares at the blind Father starting Mass.

   He’s gorgeous.

_Not the time!_

   Organ music floats in as the Kyrie eleison begins. He still doesn’t remember much, but opens up his hymnal and tries to follow along. Tries not to look at the priest. His mind isn't taking him to very holy places.

   The rest of Mass mostly passes him by. The lector reads from The Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. “Love is patient, love is kind.” The priest sits towards the back of the sanctuary, and lets someone else do the homily. He tries his best to listen, but can’t seem to focus. After the homily, several well-dressed people set up the altar with the Eucharist wafers and holy wine. Holy wine? Is that what it’s called?

   Silent prayers are spoken during the set-up, and he gets on his knees to pray. _This is why I’m here, right?_ He prays, even though he’s not sure if it’s the right way. He’s pretty sure this is how it works. Maybe.

   He says a prayer for his mother. It’s been 7 months; the cemetery recently received her headstone. He prays that she finds peace in Heaven now, and prays that she meets Dad there. It’s surprisingly effective, like a boulder gets lifted off of his soul. He feels lighter.

   Prayers are spoken at the altar, and he finds himself going to the front of the church. One of the well-dressed people shuffles him into a line. Three people are serving Communion. _No, no, no!_

   It’s him. There he is. The cute priest. _Shit!_ Right after he felt really good and religious, too! There’s still three people ahead of him. He can handle his freak-out here. He clenches his fists, trying to get the tension out. He can do this. _Don’t make it weird._

   “Ahem.” It’s the person behind him, gently nudging him forward. It’s his turn already. Does Communion go faster than it used to?

   He steps up to the priest, and he’s face-to-face with him, and _God_ , his lips are so pink. He looks up at the crucifix again. _I’m so sorry._

   “The Body of Christ.” _Christ, what a body._

   “Amen,” his voice comes out breathless, no, _no._

   The priest tilts his head. “You’re new here,” he says, matter-of-factly.

   “Yeah.”

   He smiles. “Father Matthew. Pleasure to meet you.”

   “Franklin,” he bumbles, “but most people call me Foggy. The pleasure is _definitely_ all mine.” _Shut up!_

   “Foggy,” Father Matthew repeats, and his smile tilts up to one side, _why._ "I like that."

   He touches the side of Foggy’s face. “The Body of Christ,” he repeats.

   “The wha-”

   The Eucharist wafer is gently pressed against his lips, with Father Matthew’s thumb on the edge of them, guiding it into his mouth. _Good lord._

   “Mhamhen,” Foggy says through the wafer. He sees Father Matthew grin, on the edge of a laugh, and _oh_ , he wants to look at that face forever. _This is awful._

   “You…you can go now.”

   Foggy realizes he hasn’t moved. He’s still staring.

   “Sorry! Sorry, yeah, I’ll – thanks. For the. Yeah. Thanks.” He stumbles over to the next station with the holy wine.

   “The blood of Christ.” It’s a woman who's speaking to him, with blonde hair and a white blouse under a pink cardigan.

   “Thanks. I mean, amen.” He takes a sip that’s a little too long, still eyeing the Father.

   “Isn’t he adorable?”

   He snaps his head back to the woman. “What – who?”

   “Father Matthew,” she says lowly. “He’s fresh out of the seminary. Give me a spoon and I could just eat him up!”

   “Oh, ha. Yeah. No spoons for you, then,” he laughs awkwardly, heading back to his seat.

   The rest of Mass is torture. He thought he’d had a handle on it; not even close. All he can take in is that _face_ , the shape of his brow, the cut of his jaw.

   “The Lord be with you.”

   “And with your spirit.” This time, Foggy actually manages to say it.

   “Before we go, I’d like to remind everyone that Bible study sessions are starting up soon, so please come talk to me afterwards if you’re interested.”

   He closes the Bible on the altar, tucking it under his arm. “May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

   “Amen.”

   “Go in peace.”

   “Thanks be to God.”

   He bends and presses a kiss to the altar, then takes the arm of the same lector as before.

   Foggy tries not to trip as he rushes out of the pew, practically shoving the other churchgoers out of his way.

   “Sorry, again, just – let me – ” He accidentally elbows the old man in the pew. “So sorry, but I really gotta – ”

   He sees Father Matthew standing by the side door, grabbing a folded-up long cane from where it’s stashed behind a statue of the Virgin Mary. There’s already a line of people in front of him.

   Foggy does his best to be patient, trying not to eavesdrop on the Father’s conversations. Mostly people asking for a prayer for this one, a blessing for that one. Talk of a recent charity drive. Every response he gives is intelligent, poised, sharp. It’s driving him crazy. _Deep breath._

   He tries to think of something clever to say instead, practicing it in his head. _Some weather we’re having!_ No. _You look nice today._ Nope. _Hey, come here often?_ Really?

   It’s too late now, the last person in front of him parts ways, and there he is again. The sunlight from the stained-glass lights him up in red and gold. It’s too much; he thinks his heart might explode in a gory mess. “Hey.” _Nice._

   “Hi.”

   There’s a long pause. “Oh! Sorry. It’s Franklin. Foggy. From earlier.”

   “Ah, Foggy! How could I forget.” He’s smiling, with teeth, _don’t do that!_

   “I, uh – I wanted to know more about the, the Bible study group-thing.”

   “Of course. It meets every Thursday, from three to four-thirty.”

   “Gotcha.” There’s another long pause.

   “Why now?”

   He catches Foggy off-guard. “Excuse me?”

   “Why did you decide to come now? It seems like you haven’t been in a while.”

   Yikes. That visible?

   “My, uh. It was my mom. She passed away a little while ago. Figured I needed somebody to talk to. And I thought, well, why not the man upstairs, know what I mean?” He shrugs gracelessly.

   “I’m so sorry to hear that,” and no, now he’s frowning, he thought the happy face was bad!

   “It’s okay!” He’s quick to try and reassure him, if only to stop him from looking so damn sad. “It’s fine. I’m alright.”

   “I see.” Father Matthew gives a polite nod. “Well, I hope to see you Thursday, then.”

   “Yes, absolutely!” he cringes at his over-eagerness. “The, um. I’ll see you then.”

   “I’ll see you then,” Father Matthew repeats, unfolding his cane with a satisfying _snap_. “Take care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm glad to be back on here though. everyone has been so kind to my other fic, [the outside looking in](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7220272/chapters/16387345); i'm still attempting to work on that one as well! (my muse seemed to have escaped out the window on that one; i'm currently trying to find it.) i appreciate all of the kind words put there.
> 
> i started writing this story around october, and have a shorter version of this completed, but i really wanted to use ao3 as a way to flesh this out more and also so that the english teacher who i submitted this to for an actual class wouldn't find it until the end of the semester. 
> 
> thanks for reading;;; 
> 
> more to come


	2. thou requirest truth in the inward parts (we could make it simple)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get a little hot in bible study. 
> 
> song recommendation: [from eden by hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmWbBUxSNUU)

   Rushing through the halls of the empty church, Foggy finds his way to the basement, checking the time on his phone. _No, no…_

   “Father, am I late-”

   Foggy's greeted by an empty room. 

   “Shit.” He makes a quick sign of the cross. “Sorry.”

   He wanders the space, a few chairs spread in a tidy oval. “Father Matthew?”

   No answer. Did he miss the whole meeting? 

   He pokes around, finding a door at the back of the room. With a little effort, the knob sticking as it turns, the door opens. There's a wooden hallway that smells like dust and sun behind it, small rectangle windows lining the side. “Hello?”

   The boards creak beneath his feet, and he notices the row of doors on the other side. “Anybody home?”

   He hears a noise at the end of the hall, and thinks _shit_ , _maybe I shouldn't be here_. Another sign of the cross. “Sorry.”

   There's shuffling, and Father Matthew pokes his head out of the far-end room. “Foggy?”

   “Oh, uh, hey,” Foggy says, trying to hide his blush as best he can, “was the, uh - did I miss the meeting?”

   “The meet-” Father Matthew's eyebrows come together, then apart. “Oh! The Bible study group.”

   “Yeah, that,” Foggy nods. “Was I-”

   “It's not until Thursday,” Father Matthew comments.

   “What – ” Foggy pulls out his phone. “What day is it?”

   He reads the word on his display as Father Matthew says it. “Tuesday.”

   “Ah, shit.”

   Father Matthew opens his mouth to speak.

   “Got it. Sorry,” Foggy apologizes. “I'm trying.”

   Father Matthew closes his mouth, then opens it again. “Do you like tea?”

   “What?” Foggy feels heat in his ears.

   “I've got some going in here,” he gestures to the door, “please feel free. To, uh-”

   “Oh, yeah. Sure,” Foggy says as he heads down the hall. It's a little longer than it looks.

   “I wish I could help you with your studies,” Father Matthew says as Foggy steps inside, “but I only have my Braille copy in here.”

   It's a tight room, a counter with an electric tea kettle on one side, a narrow bed on the other. His room.

   “If you'd like, I can get one from outside-”

   “No, no,” Foggy says quickly, eyeing the cross on the wall in the corner. “That's okay. Tea's fine.”

   “Alright. Make yourself comfortable.” There's a round wooden table set in the middle of the room placed on a thick green rug, two chairs framing it. It squeaks as Foggy sits, and he rests his elbows on the table. “Father Matthew – ”

   “Please,” he says, making his way around the table, “Call me Matt. Or, uh, Father Matt.”

    _Father Matt._ He could get used to that one.

   He shifts in his seat, chair creaking. “So...this is where you live?”

   Father Matt nods his head, taking a mug from a little cupboard above the counter. “Yes. This is the rectory. Been here for a little while now.”  His cassock’s nicely snug, hanging off of his hips like a bell. _Not now._

   Foggy gnaws the inside of his cheek as Father Matt gingerly places a teabag in the cup. At the risk of sounding too friendly, he asks, “how long?”

   “Five years,” he says. “It's been good to me.”

   “Wow.” Father Matt blows on the tea to cool it, and Foggy's blood pressure shoots through the ceiling, seeing his mouth curled in a perfect 'o'. “Wow.”

   “Wow?” Father Matt asks with a sideways smile, placing the tea in front of Foggy.

   “Yeah, the, you,” he starts. He doesn't finish.

   “Yeah?” Father Matts says in the same way, grinning with teeth as he sits. 

   “Sorry,” he says, wrapping his hands around his drink, “I just - that's a long time to be in a place like this, huh?” He laughs breathy, from the top of his chest. 

   Father Matt cocks his head, his lips pursed. “How so?”

   “I mean, I know I couldn't stay in a place as…humbling, as this.”

   “Ah. I get that a lot,” he takes a sip, “although maybe not about my room, specifically. Nobody really gets to see this place.”

   Foggy's heart is going _ba-bump, ba-bump,_ and he feels like an old cartoon where it beats far out from his chest. He's one of the few people who've seen the inside of his room. Maybe it shouldn't excite him as much as it does, but it still feels like he's getting to see something private of his, and it feels intensely intimate. He glances to the bed again, then to the cross hanging over it. _Sorry._

   “So, have you been reading the Book, then?” Father Matt asks, placing two fingers on the rim of his mug. Foggy swallows. 

   “I - not really,” he admits. “I was hoping to do some of that today.”

   Father Matt laughs, and the apples of his cheeks rise playfully underneath his glasses. “At least you're honest.”

   “Yeah,” Foggy says weakly, and all he wants to do is kiss him there, kiss where that crest meets the bottom of his eye, kiss him until they're a laughing, happy mess on his bed. 

   “I could read you some passages, if you like,” Father Matt offers, grabbing a small leather-bound bible from the counter. It’s the same one from the Mass where they’d met. The front has large raised bumps on it, with small gold letters underneath. 'BIBLE'. 

   “Uh, yeah,” Foggy manages, watching the way his fingers unlatch the cover, flip between the pages. 

   “What should I-” he starts to say, but Foggy gently puts his fingertips against the edge of the page.

   “Can I?” he asks. Father Matt looks surprised, but doesn't hesitate. 

   “Of course.”

   Foggy turns it so it's facing him, yellowed pages with a red silk bookmark down the middle. He turns to a random page. “What's this say?”

   He hands it back to Father Matt, who scans the letters with delicate fingers. His hands look so soft. 

   “…Old Testament,” he says decidedly, his mouth becoming a tight line. “Not a great passage to start with.”

   “What, I have to be Level 5 Bible Student to unlock this part?” Foggy jokes, scooting his chair around the table, closer to Father Matt. 

   There's a hint of a smile, and a tilted eyebrow. “It's just not very good for…beginners.”

“Me, a beginner?” Foggy asks, mockingly offended. “I've read some of it! Mostly the good parts. The whales, the giants - all that cool stuff.”

   He huffs, and there's the whole smile, the pads of his fingers against the page. “So _only_ Old Testament.”

   “Please,” Foggy begs, dramatically clasping his hands together. “I wanna get Bible-smart!”

   Father Matt chews on his bottom lip. _Stop that._ “Alright. Just…keep an open mind.”

   He lays out the Bible in front of him, sitting up straight.

   “A reading from the book of Wisdom.” He clears his throat.

   “As an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.”

   Foggy tries not to pass out. Who let something like this into the _Bible? His fruit?_

 **“** He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Sustain me with raisins; refresh me with apples, for I am sick with love.”

   His voice dips a little deeper. “His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me. **”**

“Okay then!” Foggy says, and he thinks his whole face must be red. “Wow, what kinda book _is_ this?” He tries to sound like he’s making a joke. He sounds more asthmatic instead.

   “Song of Solomon,” Father Matt says. “This isn’t really even the first verse. ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth’-”

   “Why did Solomon write it?” Foggy quickly interjects. “Why did the uh, Bible-makers feel the need to put it in the Bible? Is there a version where Solomon did not sing any songs? Why do you have a copy of the Bible with the Solomon song in it?”

   “It’s – it’s a, it’s often seen as an allegory, of Christ, and the Church, as the Bride of Christ–”

   He’s fumbling, and he’s starting to look as bad as Foggy feels, and he knows he went too far. The tips of his ears are pink. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read it.”

   “No, no - ” Foggy backpedals, waving his hands in a vague gesture. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

   He realizes now that both of them are out of breath, chests rising and falling. His face is closer to Father Matt’s than it was before. By a lot.

   “Father.”

   He’s not sure who starts it. He feels Father Matt’s hands softly find his face, but he doesn’t know who leans in first. He feels the lens of his dark glasses against his cheek instead, feels their lips meet somewhere in the middle. The whole room feels like it tilts in slow-motion, catches him off-balance. _Holy Jesus._

   It feels too soon when they part. Foggy sits there, eyes still closed, his mouth still warm.

   “…Hello? You didn’t leave, did you?”

   Father Matt looks a little panicked. _No shit._

   “No, hey, I’m right here.”

   “Good.” He relaxes minimally, rolling his shoulders. “So.”

   “So.” Foggy blows out a breath. “That was. Yeah.”

   “Yeah.” Father Matt wrings his hands. “How…how was it?”

   “Amazing,” he blurts out. “I, I know it’s only been, what, two days? But you’re amazing, and smart, and funny, and maybe I’m taking this way too fast, but it’s – don’t they say love at first sight, or something?”

   “Maybe not for me,” he says, that same sideways grin there, but smaller now. He taps his glasses.

   “Why – oh. _Oh_. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

   He tilts his head back to laugh, and that _neck_ , and that _smile_ , and he’s in love. It’s official. He’s in love with a priest. _Fuck!_

“I can say the same.” He looks so sincere, the corners of his eyes coming up in happy crinkles. “I think we should-”

   “Father Matthew?”

   He almost knocks over his mug of tea. It’s coming from down the hall.

   “Karen.” He says it like a warning. “Act natural.”

   Foggy folds his leg on top of his knee, leaning an elbow onto the table as the door opens.

   “I thought I might find you here!” It’s the woman from Communion, the one with the pink cardigan, only this time she’s wearing a shirt with blue flowers on it and a pencil skirt.

   “Karen!” He’s too loud this time, his arms outspread. “Nice to see you. Or in my case, hear you! Ha!”

   Foggy kicks him under the table, whispering “natural” out of the corner of his mouth.

   “Hem, yes. What do you need?”

   “Father Lantom wants to see you. Finance stuff.” She looks to Foggy, then back to Father Matt. Foggy takes a long sip of his now cold tea.

   “Ah,” he fiddles with the collar on his cassock, “tell him I’ll be right in.”

   “Everything alright in here?” she asks. Maybe she noticed Father Matt’s fake smile already.

   “Just fine. Foggy and I were, ah, discussing Bible studies.”

   “I was actually leaving right now,” Foggy says, pushing his cup away. “Thanks for the tea, Father.”

   Father Matt gives him that same smile. “Thanks for coming, Foggy. Hopefully we can do this again sometime.”

   “Of course,” Foggy beams, “definitely.”

   “Take care, Foggy!” Karen says. She does a sort of half-curtsey, and looks over her shoulder to Foggy with a wink and a thumbs-up as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey. didn't see you there.
> 
> i feel like maybe i didn't make this clear enough in the last chapter/ch notes, and i feel the need to clarify: i personally don't ""endorse"" the catholic church, and that's not really something i want to be taken away from this fic. i know in the last chapter foggy sort of has a good moment where prayer helps his thoughts re: the passing of his mother, but obviously if you're reading a fic about a dude making out with a priest you might not be the most religious either. if you are, that's also cool! but my own personal experiences with the church have maybe been less than ideal, so yeah. if you have a question as to whether or not i'm a practicing catholic, the answer is no. 
> 
> anyway, big thanks for all of the kudos and kind comments. you guys all rock.
> 
> and thanks for reading this chapter! 
> 
> more to come;;


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